At First Sight
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: She lost her sight - and then she saw the man who was everything she dreamed of. *CHAPTER EIGHT UP*
1. Chapter One

A/N: Today was my friend Lourdes's birthday (the one who I made the _Friends_ folder with, for anyone who ACTUALLY READS A/N's) and I FORGOT! She got me the most awesome present for my birthday and I FORGOT hers! Actually, I didn't forget, I thought it was FRIDAY! I went around telling everyone, "Yeah, Lourdes's birthday is May 16th, May 16th, this Friday, don't forget" and then it's May 13th!!! Everyone's like, "Jenni said it was May 16th." Somebody whack me with a newspaper, please? 

Moving on from my pointless, idiotic story that I'm too embarrassed to tell anyone else... okay, this title was used in an episode of _Friends_, and I was watching that episode and I listened to the line, "some tutti fruity love story where he played a blind guy!" and _pop_, inspiration. (that was an example of onomatopoeia, by the way... now try spelling that ten times fast ;)) So anyway - read and review, please!

Oh, some quick background info - Monica and Rachel are roommates and Rachel is dating Ross, who lives in Ugly Naked Guy's apartment. Chandler and Joey are roommates and they know Phoebe.

Disclaimer: Becger87: I'm eating faster than a monkey with... wonder flying sperm!

Becger87: mmm bexy matty

I own that stuff. But not this stuff. Love you, Bec! *whispers* BTW, Bec updated tonight too - we're update buddies! That's what they'll call us! haha... so go read "Tainted Dreams"!!! 

CHAPTER ONE

Monica Geller slammed the door to her apartment, happy to have the loud noise distract her from her own thoughts. 

_Well, you've lost another one, Monica,_ she thought bitterly. _Not even noon on a Saturday morning and you've been dumped. What was it this time? Oh, right - 'I'm just not ready for the kind of commitment you want. I didn't realize you wanted to be serious about a relationship.' Didn't _realize_? I'm 29 years old, for Chrissakes! Did he think I just wanted to mess around for a couple of months? _

She threw her purse down on the table and collapsed onto the couch, trying not to cry. It wasn't this particular guy that she'd wanted so badly - she hadn't been in love with Chris, or anything. But they'd gone out for over two months, and she'd really thought he liked her. But now, the good old' "Not ready for a commitment" line, and he just walked out of the coffeehouse and out of her life. And she had to start all over. 

Monica wanted nothing more than to fall in love. She knew she was a hopeless, pathetic romantic - her roommate Rachel told her so at least twice a day - but she couldn't help it. She wanted to fall in love with a man who would love her back, who would protect her from the world, who would hold her and kiss her until the day she died. She wanted a big wedding, and she wanted babies. 

But Monica had all but given up hope. In the 11 years since she'd moved out of her parent's house, she hadn't had a relationship that had survived to see it's first anniversary. She'd heard every line in the book. "It's not you, it's me," and, "I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment," were the most popular among men she'd dated. 

Now she was 29 years old, washed-out and forlorn, and, once again, single. She sighed heavily, put on a pair of ten-year-old sweats and a tee shirt, slipped an old movie in the VCR, and pulled a fresh pint of Ben & Jerry's out of the freezer. Monica wasn't usually a drama queen like Rachel, but she was feeling so bad that day that she felt the need to indulge.

Rachel came home and found her friend close to tears over "Sleepless In Seattle." 

"Mon?" Rachel called, hanging up her jacket. "What's the matter? You know Tom will find Meg at the end, right?"

"Chris broke up with me," Monica replied dully.

Rachel clucked her tongue sympathetically and raced over to the couch. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey," she said, hugging Monica, who finally let the tears fall in the comfort of her best friend's arms.

"Am I hopeless, Rach? Will I _never_ find the right guy?" she sobbed. 

"Of course you will. Your Mr. Right's out there somewhere!"

"Easy for you to say, yours lives across the alley," Monica said, gesticulating to the window. It was true - Rachel's boyfriend, and, coincidentally, Monica's brother, lived across the street. "I'm just worried that I already _met_ him at the drycleaners or something, but I was so busy checking my underwear for dots of wink and being _Monica_ that I scared him away!''

"Listen, you just have to not freak out so much! Any guy would be so lucky to have you, Mon, you just have to take it slow. And you can't be busy being _Monica_ because _Monica_ is a great person!" She grabbed a tissue and handed it to Monica. "You shouldn't just sit around and mope, hon. Why don't you borrow my bike and go riding in the park? That always clears my head." 

"You just want to be alone with Ross," Monica grumbled, slamming into the bathroom. Five minutes later, she was unlocking Rachel's old bicycle from it's port in the garage and rolling it out onto the sidewalk. 

As she rode through the pathways of Central Park, she smiled to herself. _Maybe Rachel was right_, she thought. _This really _does_ clear my head. _With her hair coming loose in her ponytail and sharp autumn wind blowing in her face, Monica felt all the stress about boyfriends leave her. Her legs pedaled faster and faster, like she was smashing the apprehension right out of her body. The grips on the handlebars were rubbery and uneven, making them distracting and easy to squeeze, like a stress ball.

The park was moving by in a blur - trees and water and people all one big smear of color and shapes and noise. She could hear children screeching and giggling as they played tag on the grass. She caught glimpses of lovers walking hand in hand, sitting under trees and kissing. She could smell the wonderful, doughy smell from a nearby hot dog vendor wafting through the stink of smog that clouded the city. She could hear dogs barking... 

But one dog was barking too close.

Monica pulled her head out of the clouds to see a border collie careening across the path directly in front of her. She was going too fast, and she wasn't an expert on the bike. 

With a slight scream, Monica twisted the handlebars in an effort to avoid the dog. She lost control of the front tire and it spun around. The handlebars were wrenched from her grasp and she catapulted over them, her arms flailing as she struggled to regain control of the bike she was flying over. She had the strangest sensation that she was going to hit something that wasn't the ground.

And then everything went black.

A/N: I promise this will get better, and the other characters WILL arrive shortly! This first chapter is really kinda short because, yeah, that's how the chapters turned out, but I will try to have chapter two up VERY VERY SOON. Hopefully you like it, and so hopefully I can get some reviews! If I don't get any reviews, Chandler's evil twin Chuck will kill everyone! And nobody wants that, now do they? Well, nobody except Chuck. And Boris. But Boris is just a rotten, bitter person. I mean, who wouldn't be - she's a girl whose name is Boris. 

*Yen*


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Not much to say here except thanks for the reviews! *Looks at pinched finger* MAN, I love you! And, excuuuuuse me, but your s/n is ON your PROFILE, Miss Becca Boo. Yeah, I'm glad Chuck didn't kill me too... I managed to convince him I was on HIS side. Muahaha... I'm on a side of my own!!! 

BTW, everyone else, Becca and I are update buddies again!!!!! Check out the last chapter of "Between Us"!!! It's a real... a real... well, I'm not quite sure what happens in it, but read it anyways!

Disclaimer: I can never think of funny disclaimers so I give up *throws the towel in*

Chandler Bing stormed furiously away from his office building. He'd gone in on a Saturday morning - a_ Saturday_ - to finish up some paperwork for his boss. He felt slightly ill from the night before; he'd gone to a bar with his roommate Joey. Joey had gone home with a woman - he'd gone home with a hangover. 

And now he couldn't get into his building. It was locked up, completely deserted, not even a janitor in sight.

__

I'm surprised - I mean, it's a beautiful Saturday morning in May - shouldn't the place be swarmed_ with bussinesspeople excitedly giving up their weekends to do their boss's bidding?_ he thought sarcastically. Angrily, he started walking through the city, not quite sure where he was going. Certainly not home, to his dank bachelor pad, where all he'd do was grab a beer and sit in front of _Baywatch_ all day. And as much as he loved , he didn't think he could stand watching all those beautiful women running in the sun and saving lives while the riskiest thing he'd do was tip the pizza guy an extra buck.

Frustrated and bored, Chandler found himself making his way down the paths at Central Park. He kicked a pebble and kept his head down like a sullen kid. The sight of young couples groping each other made him sick, and he continued to a quieter section of the park. A deserted bike path wove through it. Water lapped against an embankment that led sharply down to a lake filled with dark water. _Probably a breeding zone for E coli.,_ Chandler thought in disgust. _I wouldn't go in that water if Yasmine Bleeth begged me to._

_Well, maybe if she were topless._

Chandler bought a pretzel from a clean-looking vendor - _isn't that an oxymoron?_ - and sat on a bench, watching a few bikes go by. The only other people around were a teenage pair, giggling and flirting on the grass, and a little boy, perhaps a little brother, playing with a large border collie and a Frisbee. 

Staring down the bike path, Chandler saw a figure roaring towards him. It was a woman with long dark hair, and, despite her wild pedaling on the bicycle, Chandler could see she had a great body. But that wasn't what caught his attention. She had an expression on her face, like she was floating on a cloud but worried she would fall, all at the same time. He watched her intently, mesmerized by the way her muscles pushed angrily at the pedals and the fierce concentration on her face. 

Suddenly, the little boy threw his Frisbee across the path. The dog became confused and started chasing it. Chandler saw the accident coming before it happened.

The woman on the bike yanked the handlebars to the side, and the front wheel jerked to the side, bouncing off of the path. Suddenly, she was launched from the bike, and she screamed. She hit a light pole head-on, rolled down the embankment, and splashed into the nasty-looking water.

Chandler was up and running before he heard her cry out. He dashed towards the water and stopped at the edge, hoping to see the woman crawling to the surface. When she didn't appear after several seconds, he pulled off his shirt and jumped in. 

The water was about five feet deep, and Chandler, at almost 6'1, could navigate through it easily. He wasn't paying attention to the disgusting, slimy water that was covering him, or the tiny creatures that were nipping at his arms and legs. All he could think was _find the woman_. 

He plugged his nose, closed his eyes, and ducked under the water. With his one free arm, he felt for a body. His hands closed on something - an arm, perhaps? Terrified, he pulled upwards, sputtering as he hit the surface. He pulled the woman up with him. Her dark hair covered her eyes, and Chandler couldn't tell if she was breathing.

"Help me!" he yelled to the teenagers, who were standing at the edge of the embankment. They grabbed the woman under the arms and dragged her out of the water. Chandler pulled himself out of the repulsive water and dropped down next to her. He quickly pushed her hair away from her face. The first thing her saw was a large cut and a bruise on her forehead, right where she'd hit the pole. He flinched and put his ear to her chest. She was breathing.

"Call 911," he barked to the teenagers. The girl, who looked close to tears, hurriedly pulled a cell phone out of her purse. Chandler realized he had his too - in his soaked pants pocket. 

The woman started to cough violently, and struggled to sit up. 

"No, don't. Just lay there," Chandler said quickly. "It's okay."

"Who are you?" she cried, looking panicky. 

"My name is Chandler. Chandler Bing. You fell off your bike and rolled into the water, but you're okay now." He hoped he was right - the cut of her head was bleeding profusely. He grabbed the shirt he'd left on the dirt and gently held it against her head. Her eyes flew open, but she just stared blankly ahead. Chandler frowned - why wouldn't she look at him?

"What're you doing?" she asked, batting his hand away.

"You've got a cut on your head, I'm putting my shirt on it," he explained, amazed at the calmness in his own voice. "What's your name?"

"Monica Geller," she said. After a pause, where her forehead creased in confusion, she asked, "Hey, is it dark already?" 

Chandler stared at her, and then looked behind him at the teenagers and young boy. The girl shrugged.

"Uh - no, it's not dark," he said, staring down at her.

"But... what?" she asked, equally perplexed.

"It's not dark," Chandler stated again. "It's the middle of the day, Monica." 

"But... then... wait," Monica trailed off. "Are you in front of me? Why can't I se you? Are my eyes closed?

"No, they're open," Chandler said in complete puzzlement. Then it hit him. "You mean, you can't see me?"

"NO!" Monica yelled. "What happened? Why can't I see?"

Monica was overcome with terror. The last thing she remembered was falling off the bike and hitting _something_... and then she'd woken up soaking wet and coughing up water, with a stranger talking to her. And now he was telling her that her eyes were open - but she couldn't see! Blinding pain filled her head, and her arms and legs were sore and aching.

"I don't know," Chandler said. "An ambulance is on the way, Monica, everything's going to be fine." His voice was drifting away.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she cried, reaching out. "Please don't leave!" She'd never heard such desperation in her voice - but then, she'd never felt quite so scared and alone.

"I'm just standing up to look for the ambulance," Chandler said, and his voice was close again. "I'm sorry. I'm right here." He seemed to sense her horror.

"I didn't hit the dog, did I?" Monica asked suddenly, afraid that all of the pain she was in right now was in vain.

Chandler let out a small laugh. "No. You didn't hit the dog."

"I'm really sorry," said another voice, one of a child's. "I really didn't mean for Sammy to run in your way - "

"It's okay," Monica reassured the boy. Suddenly, Monica heard sirens.

"Down here!" Chandler called. "She's down here!" Strange voices surrounded her, hands were all over her - checking her pulse, touching her head, her arms, her neck. Monica felt like a small child, alone and forgotten. When asked if anything hurt, she said only her head and her wrist, which she could not move.

"Okay, ma'am, we're going to put you on a stretcher now," one of the men told her. She gasped as she was lifted up, onto a hard, flat board. She started to cry from the pain and fright. She had the sensation of moving, 

and heard wheels rolling along under her. "We're putting you in the ambulance." She was lifted again, and she heard a door slam. 

"_Wait!_" she cried. "Wait - where's Chandler? I want - I want Chandler to come."

"Only immediate family can ride along," one of the EMT's said briskly.

"He's my husband!" Monica blurted out. Chandler had been so kind - he had saved her life, he had soothed her and kept her calm. She needed him.

"O-kaaay," the EMT said doubtfully. 

"I'm right here, Monica," Chandler said, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. Monica instantly felt more relaxed.

"Chandler? Will you - will you hold my hand?" she asked in a whisper.

"Sure," he said, and Monica felt a warm, strong hand take her frail, wet, shaking one.

"Thank you."

A/N: Okay, tell me what you think! Don't forget that warning about Chuck... I have a couple of deaths up my sleeve, if you know what I mean. *Looks around*. No one knows? Whatever...

*Yen*


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Becca and I have decided to sell Chandler in a Box... and all of the rhyming Chandlers.

cahndler with a fox...

chandler eating lox...

chandler with courteney cox...

chandler chewing on some rocks...

chandler with chicken pox...

chandler making food with a wok...

chandler with high stock...

chandler in a purple smock...

chandler working in a shop...

chandler with a magic mop...

chandler dancing the bunny hop...

chandler cutting off his gorgeous locks *gasp*...

chandler with building blocks...

chandler's yummy big ***CENSORED***

*giggles* 

(That last one was Becca's)

Anyways...

I've decided to update so Becca and I can be update buddies! Go read her NEW fic, This Isn't Living. Although, I'm not sure I should mention it, because according to her, THIS fic is called "Love is Blind." *Sighs* I still love you, don't worry!

Oh, and everybody, Julie thinks Matthew Perry is "Hollywood's man whore" and that he has "nothing" in a certain area. 

Moi: why are you the ultimate authority on the wherabouts of matthew perry's penicular area?

Julie: because....i.....work for a top secret government agency

Yall can beat on her later.

Okay, this chapter is kind of uneventful... basically a transition chapter, so sorry if it's boring. More in end A/N.

Disclaimer: I own even LESS than most people... however I *do* own all those Chandler In a Box products (coming to a toy store near you.) I also own a very vivid mental picture of Jennifer Aniston having an orgasm. (Go see Bruce Almighty, if for that reason only... lol J/K!!!)

CHAPTER THREE

Chandler sat in the waiting room in the hospital, wrapped in a blanket. The air conditioner was on full blast, and he was shivering in his wet clothes. He could still feel the greasy pond water on him, in his hair, in his mouth, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Monica was okay. After she was rushed into the emergency room, they told him she may have a concussion, and that's why she couldn't see. And although he'd just met this woman, he felt connected to her. She seemed so scared when he pulled her from the lake, and, well, who wouldn't be?

A man and a woman suddenly ran up to the nurse's station. "Monica Geller?" the man asked breathlessly.

"Her husband's over there," the nurse said in a bored voice, pointing to Chandler. The two people turned at looked at him, seeming completely confused. Chandler jumped up and walked over to them.

"I'm Chandler Bing," he explained, holding out his hand. "I - I pulled Monica from the water. She said I was her husband so I could ride in the ambulance."

"Ross Geller," the man said, and for a minute Chandler's heart dropped. Was this her _real_ husband? "I'm her brother." He sighed in relief - yet he didn't know why.

"Rachel Greene, her roommate," the woman said, also shaking his hand. "Is Monica all right?"

"I don't know anything yet," Chandler told them. 

"What do you mean by 'pulled from the water'?" Ross asked. "They said she had a bike accident."

"She did," Chandler said. "She tried not to hit a dog and ran into a light pole. She fell off the bike and rolled into a pond in Central Park." Chandler gestured to his wet clothes. "And I jumped in after her. She was underwater for less than a minute, but she was unconscious when I pulled her out." He didn't mention that Monica couldn't see. 

"Oh my God,'' Rachel said, covering her mouth with her hand. "Thank God you were there!"

Chandler shrugged modestly. "Anyone coulda done it," he mumbled.

"But _you_ did," Ross said softly. "Thank you."

"Monica Geller's family?" a doctor said, coming down the hall.

"That's us," Ross said. "I'm her brother Ross, and this is our friend Rachel. And this is - um, Chandler?"

"Yeah," Chandler said. 

"So how's Monica?" Rachel asked.

"Well, she's basically all right. We asked her some basic questions - her name, date of birth, where she worked, the phone numbers of who to call - and mentally, she seems okay. Other than a sprained wrist and a large cut on her forehead, she seems okay. But she seems to have lost her eyesight."

"_What?_" Ross yelled.

"She cannot see," the doctor said gently.

"You mean she's _blind_?" Chandler asked.

"Perhaps temporarily," the doctor explained. "Because of eye or head trauma, the vitreous fluid in the eye can pull the retina, which projects images. If the retina is pulled hard enough, it can rip, which is what I believed happened in Monica's case."

"Well - how can it be fixed?" Rachel said.

"The vitreous fluid must be drained to minimize the space between the retina and the eye wall. After that, her can surgically repair the retina. However, because of the severity of the rip, this process may take months, and Monica may never fully regain her eyesight."

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered. "How could that have happened? I mean, how could the retina have been ripped? "

"It was probably caused by the impact against the pole. She wasn't wearing a helmet, which, unfortunately, is a common occurrence." 

"Has she been told?" Ross asked.

"Yes," the doctor said. "She's resting now, but I have a nurse come and get you when she wakes." Without another word, he walked away.

"This is going to kill her," Ross said, dropping into a chair. "My sister's a chef," he explained. "She can't work if she can't see."

"Oh," Chandler said, at a loss for words. 

"How can she do anything?" Rachel burst out. "She can't cook or read or write or watch television - she can't walk or drive or do grocery shopping..." Rachel fell against Ross's shoulder and started to cry. "She can't even _clean!_" Chandler did not see the importance in this fact, but it seemed to have an alarming effect on Ross and Rachel.

"Shhh," Ross said, hugging her. "Shhh."

Chandler felt uncomfortable sitting there with Monica's brother and friend. He was glad Monica was all right, and he wished he could see her, but he was out of place here.

"I'd better go," Chandler said, standing up.

"Oh, Chandler, you don't have to," Rachel said. "I'm sure Monica would love to see the man who saved her life. You're her husband, remember?" she joked.

"I - I don't know - she probably doesn't really, uh, care," Chandler said. 

"Miss Geller wants to see you," a nurse said, approaching them. Ross and Rachel stood up.

"C'mon, Chandler," Ross said. ''Please, just come see her." Chandler shrugged and followed them.

Monica's room was dark when they entered. She was lying in the bed, a mask over her eyes. When they closed the door behind them, she swiveled her head around, startled. "Ross? Rachel?"

"It's us," Rachel said, and she and Ross stepped toward Monica, each taking one of her hands. Chandler stayed near the door. "Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Monica said softly. "I'm not - I'm never going to see again, am I?"

"Of course you are," Ross said quickly. "They can fix it, Mon, didn't he tell you?"

Monica didn't reply. "Hey, was Chandler - Chandler Bing - was he still out there?"

"I'm right here," Chandler said. 

"Chandler!" she cried, a smile lighting up her face. "You guys, Chandler, he saved my life - "

"We know," Rachel replied, smiling. "He's quite the hero."

"Yeah..." Monica said. "Could you guys give me a minute alone with him?"

Ross looked startled; Rachel did not. "Sure," she said, pulling Ross out of the room. 

"Chandler, come closer," Monica said, beckoning him forward. "I won't bite." Chandler stepped closer to her bed. "I just want to say thank you again. For everything.''

"Well, anyone would've saved you - "

"But you did more than that. You comforted me, and you came to the hospital and waited while all these gawdawful doctors poked me and prodded me and made sure a thousand times if I remembered who the President was." Monica smiled. "I just wanted to say that. You probably want to go home and shower and change - that water was disgusting, wasn't it?"

"I can still feel my skin crawling," Chandler replied dryly.

"Yuck. I hope I can take a shower soon," she said, making a face. "Or brush my teeth. Listen, I - I don't know when I'll be out of here - I might forget the year or something, who knows - but I'd really love to talk to you again."

"I'd love to talk to you too," Chandler said. "I'll leave my number here on the nightstand. And, uh, if you want a visitor - I could swing by tomorrow. I could probably fit you into my packed schedule," he said. She didn't hear the sarcasm. 

Monica's face broke into a smile. "That would be great." She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Well - thanks again."

"No problem. I hope you feel better," he said awkwardly. He took a step away.

"Call Ross and Rachel in, okay?" Monica called as Chandler left.

"Okay. Bye, Monica."

When Chandler arrived back at his and Joey's apartment, Joey was sitting in his chair, watching TV. When he heard Chandler come in, he spun around.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he asked. "You're not at work; your cell phone's been disconnected - it's almost seven!"

"Really?" Chandler asked, surprised. He hadn't noticed the hours slipping by as he sat in the hospital.

"You smell," Joey said, wrinkling his nose. "_What_ have you been doing all day?"

"Saving lives, meeting beautiful women - it's all in a day's work," he said, walking into the bathroom and hopping into the shower.

When he got out, he explained to Joey what he'd done all day. When he finished, Joey sat there gaping at him.

"You're messin' with me," he said. 

"Nope."

"Let me get this straight - you _rescued_ a hot chick from a watery death, went to the hospital and stayed there _all day_; you met her brother and roommate; and now she's _blind?_ No way, Chandler, this kind of thing does _not_ happen to you."

"Oh, thanks," Chandler said. "That makes me feel so good about myself."

"Okay, I have only one question. This roommate. Is she hot?"

A/N: I got all that "medical hoopla" about Monica's eyes from this website a very, very long time ago... so thank you to that website. lol. And also, THANK YOU JENNI!!!! Everyone give a bunch of credit to Jenni (other Jenni) because she helped me out with lots of lines and stuff a long time ago! Thank you hon! Remember to review, or Chuck will infect everyone with a horrible amazon virus! :)

*Yen*


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: I got my braces on yesterday... yes, braces at 14, how sad is that? Very. Thank God I got clear ones, so you can't really see them unless you're up close. But my teeth are sooo sore. My mom let me stay home from school today, and then she left so yay I get lots of time to update! 

I understand that all you high schoolers are having finals right now, and I have one word for you - 

Hahahahaha!

Just kidding. I really do feel sorry for you and I am dreading next year. Anyways... Julie (aka Llama Lover, Mrs. Aiken, etc.), I just re-read your review and I JUST GOT the whole "light pole" thing... that makes me *almost* as slow as you. And he IS a llama. My Bexy Becca Boo - aww, we're not update buddies! :( Maybe next time. Have fun at your confirmation! Hehe... I know all the rest of you think my "random commentary is kind of...odd...but amusing nonetheless" to quote a review, and I enjoy that. *mwah*

CHAPTER FOUR

Monica spent the next day trying to come to grips with not being able to see. She came to the conclusion that she hated it. She hated being incapable of seeing the doctors and nurses who entered her room; she hated having nothing to do but lay in the dark and listen to the television; but most of all, she hated not being able to see the man who had saved her life. She had heard Chandler's voice, but she had no memory of his face. Ross and Rachel and her parents - she could _remember_ their faces, and not being able to see them was an annoyance, but it wasn't heartbreaking. But only being able to _hear_ Chandler was horrible. There was something special about that man, she knew it.

She was alone for most of the day, except of course for the nurses who woke her every two hours to check her vitals. She also despised hospitals. She wasn't sick, but they made her feel like she had a terminal illness. Monica wanted to get out of there.

She tried to ignore the question that was burning a hole in her brain. What happened _after_ she went home? What if she didn't have her eyesight back? How could she cook, or clean, or do _anything_ of value? She couldn't.

The one bright spot in her day was a visit from Chandler.

"Miss Geller? You have a visitor," a nurse said, opening the door. Monica sat up and licked her parched lips.

"Hi, Monica. It's Chandler," Chandler said. Monica grinned widely. 

"Hi, Chandler! Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you came. I'm bored to death."  


"What, doesn't the hospital provide you with unwavering entertainment?" Chandler asked. Monica laughed. She liked him already.

They talked for about twenty minutes, and Chandler brightened Monica up considerably with his hospital jokes and cracks about the nurses and doctors. She was sad when he said he had to go, but promised to come see her the next day, or call. She looked forward to it already.

Later that day, the doctor told her she was going home the next morning. "We have assured there is no brain damage, and other than your loss of eyesight, there's no reason to keep you in the hospital any longer." He told her she would have to come back for check-ups, but other than that, there was nothing they could do for her there. She would have to see an eyesight specialist.

So Monica had the prospect of long, boring days ahead of her where all she could do was sit in her apartment. Most people would enjoy an extended vacation, but not Monica. She always needed to be up and doing something. She grasped onto the tiny but of hope she had left - that her eyesight would return quickly. 

On Monday morning, Rachel helped her get dressed and then she and Ross took her home. Monica refused any help with walking - she used a cane and felt her way through the apartment.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told Rachel and Ross.

"Need any help?" Ross asked instinctively.

"I think I'm good, thanks," Monica said with a smirk. She felt her way to the shower and immediately stepped into the warm spray. She'd had only a sponge bath at the hospital, and she felt grimy and disgusting. The pond water smell was still on her; Monica could swear there was seaweed in her hair. 

However, she discovered a problem when she got out of the shower.

"Um, Rach?" she called out the door. "Rachel!"

"Yeah?" Rachel asked.

"I, uh, don't have a towel," she said hesitantly. 

"Okay, I'll get it," Rachel said. A minute later she opened the door a crack to hand in the towel and heard Monica crying. "Mon? Honey?" She opened the door and found Monica sitting on the edge of the tub, dripping, shivering, and sobbing. "Here's your towel, sweetie," she said, wrapping the towel around her shoulders. "What's the matter?"

"I can't do _anything_!" she cried. "I can't even find a frickin towel! I have to wait for my roommate to help me so I don't sit around naked. I'm like a little baby! I'm worthless."

"You're not worthless, Mon," Rachel said, hugging her friend. "You'll be able to see again soon, and then everything will be back to normal."

But Monica was afraid it wouldn't.

The next evening, Monica was listening to the radio and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, ready for a night of boredom and loneliness. Rachel and Ross were going to a museum conference for Ross's work and although they'd offered to skip it, Monica had insisted they go. She was happy to sit by herself and wallow. She was looking for her chapstick in her purse when she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. _What is it?_ she wondered. 

"Hey, Rach!" she called. 

"Yeah?" Rachel asked. Monica was starting to be able to tell where voices were coming from, and she could tell that Rachel was standing in her doorway.

"What does it say on this piece of paper?" she asked. Rachel's footsteps approached her, and then the slip was snatched from her hand.

"A phone number, and then - Chandler Bing."

"Oh!" she cried. Chandler - she could call Chandler! "Could you dial it for me?"

"Sure," Rachel said, and a few seconds later was placing the ringing phone into Monica's hand. 

"Hello?" Chandler's voice answered.

"Hi, Chandler?" she asked, already knowing it was him. "It's Monica Geller."

"Monica! Hi! How are you feeling?" He sounded happy to hear from her.

"I'm... okay. Still can't see," she said immediately, knowing that this was the question he was asking. "But I was wondering, if you're not busy tonight, do you maybe want to meet for coffee? We could talk, get to know each other..."

"Sure! Where should we meet?"

"Well... could you maybe pick me up?"

She gave him her address and he arranged to pick her up in thirty minutes. She had the distinct impression of someone watching her as she hung up the phone.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Rachel said.

"What?"

"Going out with some guy you don't even know! You can't _see_, Monica. He could lead you into some alley and rape you before you knew what was going on!"

"Chandler's not like that," Monica insisted. ''He saved my life, remember? And anyway, the coffeehouse is less than a hundred steps from up here, I'd know if we weren't going there."

"Yeah, but you don't _know_ him!" Rachel said.

"I feel like I do," Monica said quietly. "Now shut up and put some make-up on me."

A/N: Kinda short, but I might be able to update faster this time. Please review, thanks!

*Yen*


	5. Chapter Five

/N: Not much to say here. Thanks for the reviews.

Disclaimer: None of them are mine!

Wait... am I forgetting something?

Oh yeah - HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECCA!

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

You look like a monkey

And you act like one too

That's a compliment, babe. Anyway, everyone go with Becca happy birthday because she's 16 today! Okay, it's not today anymore, it was actually a few days ago, but ffnet was being a poo that day and all the other days, so better late then never, right? A-whoo-hoo! You're old... but hey, it's better to be over the hill than under it! ;) Love ya.

CHAPTER FIVE 

Half an hour later, Rachel had gone (assuring her that she looked great) and

Monica was waiting expectantly for Chandler. There was a knock on the door.

Monica stood up, gripping her cane, and felt her way to the door. She opened it

with a smile on her face.

"Hi," Monica said.

"Hey, Monica," Chandler said. "Ready to go?"

"All set," she replied. "Let's go."

They went to Central Perk and sat at a small table near the back. A short man

with bleached hair came up to them, holding a pad of paper. "Hi, Monica," he

said. "I heard you had an accident. Are you okay?"

Chandler watched Monica's eyes turn to a spot close to the man; unfortunately, it

was a few feet too far to the left. The man stared at her curiously. "Yeah,

Gunther, I'm doing okay, thanks. Can I have a cappuccino, half-and-half, with

whip, cinnamon sprinkles?"

"Sure. And... you?" the man, Gunther, asked, nodding to Chandler.

"Uh, just a coffee. This is a coffeehouse, right?" he asked, smiling. Gunther

blinked. Monica hid a smile. 

"So how's Rachel?" Gunther asked before he left their table.

"Still with Ross," Monica smirked. Gunther nodded and walked back to the

counter.

"Does he have a crush on her or something?" Chandler asked.

"Only for about three years," Monica replied.

They talked a while longer about Gunther and Rachel and Ross; Chandler told

Monica about his friends Joey and Phoebe, his job, where he'd gone to college.

Never did Monica's accident come up. But, Monica noted, she really felt like she

and Chandler connected, just as she'd felt when she'd talked to him at the

hospital. She was talking more openly with this man than she did with her mother.

They both stalled for time in the coffee shop, not wanting to part. Finally, when

their coffee cups were drained and the place had emptied out, Monica said,

"Listen, my roommate's not home, would you maybe want to, uh, keep me

company?" She sounded very hopeful and nervous.

"I'd love to," Chandler said warmly. Monica grinned. They paid for their drinks

and left, walking slowly back to her building. 

Monica had counted the number of steps from the stairs to her apartment door,

but even so, she said in embarrassment, "Is this apartment 20?"

"Yeah," he said. Monica reached into her purse and pulled out her key, fumbling

for the lock. She couldn't find it. "Stupid key..." she murmured. Suddenly,

Chandler's hand closed over hers, and he put the key in the lock and turned. She

turned her head to where she thought he was and smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, opening the door for her. Monica walked inside and felt

her way to the refrigerator. 

"You want anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, I'm good," Chandler replied. They sat on the couch and fell into silence.

"Sorry I'm not the best conversationalist right now," Monica teased. "I kind of...

have a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. But I can go, if you want - "

"No!" Monica said vehemently. "I mean - no. Please don't leave. I really - I really

don't like being here alone. It's so dark..." she trailed off. 

"Don't worry, Monica," Chandler said. "I'm not going anywhere." He took her

hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked with a smile. "I mean, I'm practically

useless, sitting here like a lump - and you're willing to sit here and keep me

company. Why? Most people wouldn't do that - I mean, look at Rachel and Ross,

my two supposed best friends."

"I don't have anywhere else to be," Chandler joked. "Seriously... I like you. I like

to spend time with you."

"But I'm blind," Monica said suddenly. "Nobody wants to be with a blind

woman..."

"That's not true. You're a great person, Monica - you're sweet and funny and

smart."

"How do you know? You've known me for, like, three days."

"But I think I've gotten to know you pretty well," Chandler said. "And about

being blind - that doesn't matter to me. Would you not want to be with someone

because they had cancer? Or because... because... their father is a drag queen?"

"Where did that come from?!" Monica cried, laughing. 

"Uh... no where. I'll tell you some other time. But my point is... I don't like you

in spite of your being blind. That doesn't affect me at all."

"You are the sweetest guy in the world. I just wish... I wish I could see you," she

said, her voice becoming choked.

"Your not missing much," he mumbled, and Monica could tell by his voice that he

was smiling. Monica felt tingly and her heart jumping nervously in her chest. 

"Monica," Chandler whispered throatily. "If you could see me, you'd know how

badly I want to kiss you. But since you can't, I'm going to ask you. Can I kiss

you?"

"Yes," Monica whispered, afraid and delighted at the same time. 

She felt Chandler's lips touch hers, gently, searching, still asking the question. The

kiss didn't last long, but it left Monica's head spinning.

"Wow," he said. Monica smiled.

"Right back at ya," she said. 

A/N: Another short one, sorry. I've got a lot going on the next few weeks (if you

can call going to the beach, graduating, and having a party busy) but yeah :) Good

reviews will help me along!


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: CLASS OF 2003 ROCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now that I've got THAT out of my system... well, I don't. Graduation rocked. We rock. *I* rock! lol... kay. The fic. Thanks for the reviews. Okay, me and Becca are update buddies! In case you haven't gotten the hint, GO READ "This Isn't Living". Okay? 

Disclaimer: I own another highly hysterical conversation! 

Me: WIEFY!

Me: omg best word EVER

Me: hahahhaa

Me: *wifey

Me: not wiefy

Me: lol

Me: wiefy?

Bec: lol

Bec: um 

Bec: dont look at me!!

Me: hahahahha

Bec: *holds up her VERY white person sign*

Me: IALOL!!!!

Me: i think *i* need one of those

Bec: here, i have 2

CHAPTER SIX

Monica was all but giddy over the next few days. Being with Chandler made her forget that she couldn't see, that her life as she knew it could be over; and kissing him was even better. They talked on the phone the next day, and he asked her out for Friday night. 

Rachel was incredulous. "I can't believe you _invited_ him up here and then he _kissed you_," she said. "And you don't even know him!"

"Yes, I do," Monica insisted. "Look, Rachel, if this were last week and I wasn't blind, you'd be telling me to sleep with him tomorrow. I'm the _exact same person_. And I - I really like Chandler."

Rachel sighed. "Mon, I know he said he didn't care about the... thing, but - just don't get your hopes up too high." 

"What do you mean?" Monica asked, dumbfounded.

"I mean, sure, he may think being with you is great now, but... down the road, he may change his mind," she said tentatively.

Monica wasn't sure if she was kidding or not, so she made her reply just as elusive. "I'm hurt that you would say that." 

"It's just - he's a _guy_, hon, and guys are like that. I just don't want your heart getting broken when he dumps you for someone who - "

"Someone who can see?" Monica interrupted. She stood up, her face heated with anger. "Whatever, Rachel. Can't you realize that not everyone in the world is as superficial, as _shallow_ as you? Just because _you_ think I'm worthless doesn't mean Chandler does." She stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her, and leaving Rachel standing in the living room.

But Monica knew that part of the reason she was so mad at Rachel was that she was afraid Rachel could be right. What if Chandler _didn't_ want a real relationship with her? But he'd seemed so sincere when they'd talked... he'd said all those things about not caring that she couldn't see. Could that have all been lies?

Monica wanted to believe with all of her heart that Chandler wouldn't lead her on like that. But then she thought of the other men she'd ever known... Chris, who'd just dumped her a week before so he could spend quality time with his television; Paul, who'd tricked her into sleeping with him on the first date; and a thousand others who'd deceived, played, or screwed her in some way. She didn't have the best track record for finding men who really cared.

But was Chandler that heartless? Despite the way he'd been with her, talked to her, _saved her life_... Monica didn't trust him. She didn't trust him because for the first time in her life, she was powerless and vulnerable to the world around her. She couldn't trust anyone.

Monica sat stonily in the restaurant on Friday, talking only when Chandler talked to her. She felt conspicuous - like everyone was looking at her, pitying her. She couldn't help wishing she could see Chandler, see how he really acted around her, if he smirked as he talked or avoided looking at her. She wanted to know if he was who she thought he was. She couldn't concentrate on dinner or conversation, or anything except the growing resentment she was feeling.

As they finished dinner, they fell into silence. "Um, Monica," Chandler said, clearing his throat.

"Yeah?" 

"Is something wrong?"

Monica bit her lip. "No."

"Okay."

Silence. Chandler coughed once.

"Monica. Please tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you think something's wrong?"

"Because you're not talking, and I know I haven't know you long, but the Monica I know never shuts up."

Monica smirked. "That's nice of you, Chandler." She sighed. "I guess I just - don't feel very well tonight, okay?"

"Do you want me to take you home?"

Monica rubbed her temples, her heart heavy. She liked Chandler, she really did - but she was too worried about whether or not Chandler was going to leave her that she wanted to end it before he had the chance to break her heart.

"Yeah. That's a good idea."

Chandler and Monica left the restaurant and out onto the sidewalk. She expected him to take her arm as they started down the stairs, as Ross and Rachel always did, but he didn't, only asked, "You okay there?" Then they got into a taxicab 

"So, uh, I'll talk to you sometime soon?" Chandler's voice sounded pleading.

"Um, I'll - I'll call you."

There was a pause. "Oh. Okay." 

She had given him the ultimate brush-off. 

Monica lay awake in bed that night, wondering if she had done the right thing my blowing Chandler off. She pictured the ceiling that she usually stared at when she couldn't fall asleep. It was so clear in her head, it was almost real. She blinked, feeling her eyelids open and shut on her cheeks. She couldn't see it, she couldn't see _anything_.

But she could cry. 

Chandler flopped into his Barcalounger and ran his hands through his hair. _Nice job_, he thought bitterly. _You blew it. The one woman you meet whom you actually like, who actually seems to like you back, just gave you the old 'don't-call-me-I'll-call-you' speech._

"Hey, what happened to your date with the blind chick?" Joey asked, coming out of his bedroom. 

Chandler looked up and glared at him. "First of all, her name is Monica, not 'blind chick.' And second of all... it's over."

"What, she dump you?"

"She said, 'I'll call you,'" Chandler said.

"Ouch," Joey said, wincing. "Well, listen I've got a date with..." he paused, looking thoughtful. "I've got a date," he concluded, "so don't expect me back tonight. Later."

"Bye," Chandler mumbled. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was in for a long night, full of resentment and wondering and pain. What had he done wrong? He'd lost Monica before he'd ever even had her. 

_You haven't lost her_, Chandler thought. _She said she'll call you, remember?_ He sighed. _Yeah, or else I'll just go have a threesome with Yasmine Bleeth and Demi Moore. I'd put my money on the threesome._

Monica woke up the next morning in darkness. She fumbled around for a moment, struggling to pull the covers off of her head, but then she realized her blanket was on the floor and she was sitting up. There was nothing blocking her vision. She just couldn't see anymore.

It was at this moment every day in the days since her accident that she simply wanted to fall back into bed, to forget the world, to go to sleep and never wake up. But then she smelled the coffee Rachel had made, and heard the television on, and she knew that if she ever wanted to live again, she had to get out of this bed. That was the first step to having her life back.

She stepped out of bed and picked up her cane, feeling her way out of her bedroom. 

"Hey, morning, Mon," Ross's voice said.

"Morning, sweetie," Rachel said.

"Morning, guys. Ross, what're you doing here? Don't you have work?"

"Oh, well, yeah, but Rach is going in early, so I thought I'd come and - "

"Baby-sit?" Monica finished flatly.

"No, it's just - "

"You thought I couldn't take care of myself on my own. Ross, go to work. I don't need you to sit here with me like I'm some freaking child. Just - go. Please."

There was silence. Monica had folded her arms. "Okay, Mon, if that's what you want."

"It is what I want. Thank you."

They left a while later, and Monica was left alone with her thoughts, her bleak, desperate, pessimistic thoughts - of being trapped in the darkness for the rest of her life; of never working again. It was too much. She was starting to wish that Ross had stayed, as much as she detested his brotherly presence.

She picked up the phone, wondering who she could call. Her mother? No, Judy was convinced that Monica was faking the whole blindness thing. Someone from work? No, they knew she might never work again and they treated her like a baby. There was no one she could call. Except....

Chandler?

No. She wouldn't call him. He would only hurt her. As sweet as he was, as caring, as _amazing_... nothing good could come of it. 

_Nothing except finding the love of your life._

She shook this thought from her head and hurriedly got dressed. She was mastering the ability to find her way around her room without her eyes. It was a good thing she was such an organized person. Shirts - left side of the closet. Pants - third and fourth drawers. Sweatshirts - shelf. She pulled her shoes on , picked up her cane and keys, and headed out the door.

She felt her way downstairs from her apartment. This trail she knew well, but when the door opened and she felt the warm sun against her face, she was suddenly frightened. She could hear the noise of the busy streets and the chatter of the people talking, but she couldn't see them. Taking a deep breath, she put her stick out and felt her way down the street. She knew if she continued to walk this way, she would find her way to Central Park. Listening to the people around her for cues on when to cross streets, she slowly made her way down the block. She whacked someone's leg, and they yelped in pain.

"Hey, watch it!" they cried. "What's the - oh. Sorry." The woman's voice ceased for a second, and Monica heard her mutter, "What out for the blind lady behind us."

Ignoring her, Monica made sure to walk haughtily past the woman. She walked for several blocks, listening the nearby busy streets get louder and louder, and feeling the air cool. Suddenly, she realized she should have made it to Central Park by now - but she wasn't. 

"Excuse me," she said loudly, hoping a passerby would hear her. "Excuse me, where are we?"

No one answered. 

"Excuse me," she said desperately. "Are we near Central park?"

"No where near it, hon," a raspy voice said. "But don't worry, your safe." A hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Hey - " she started to yell. But then a hand reached out and clamped over her mouth.

A/N: Okay, next part might not be up for a while. I'm going on vacation next week. Well, if you can call driving for 7 hours in a car with a 7th grader who likes to talk about her teacher's guinea pig, playing volleyball with a bunch of bitches, and being trapped in a hotel room with aforementioned 7th grader and bitches for a week _a vacation... _*rolls eyes*. Wish me luck. Wish _them_ luck too... I get cranky when I'm annoyed. Hehe.

Yen


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Have you ever opened a can of worms you weren't quite sure you wanted to open, but then once you opened it you realized that it was practically itching to be opened? No idea what I'm saying? That's okay. Just my way of saying how much I love Becca. :)

Anyway... Matthew Perry is just too sexy for his own good. 'Nuff said. I never knew how sexy a cig, a jacket, and stubble could be until five minutes ago. 

:D

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I do own a very nasty sunburn, a souvenir from the beach today. I look like a tomato. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

The arms grasping her tightened, and Monica was pulled off her feet. Monica was stunned for a few seconds before her instincts kicked into action. She bit down hard on the hand.

"Shit!" the man screeched. "Little bit - "

At that moment, she kicked his shin with her heel, and he cried out, letting go of her. She pulled away and hit him with her cane, hearing at the metal thunked against his head. He moaned and mumbled a few obscenities, but Monica didn't wait around for him to finish. She turned and ran as fast as she could, feeling her way with her cane and running into people. She could hear their protesting yells, but she didn't care. All she could think of was getting away. 

She ran until she was out of breath and had tears rolling down her face. She paused and leaned against a wall, sobbing uncontrollably from apprehension and fear. 

_Okay, calm down, Monica,_ she thought to herself. _Just calm down. You're fine. Just find your way home. Just - _

"Hey - "

"Stay away!" Monica screamed as a hand reached out and touched her shoulder. "Don't touch me!" She swung out with her cane and connected with something soft, like a stomach. 

The man groaned, "Oomph. Good God, Monica, if you hate me that much, just tell me." 

Monica covered her mouth with her hands. "Chandler? Is that you?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. 

"What the hell is the matter with you, sneaking up on me like that? I - I..." she trailed off, starting to cry again. "I'm sor-sor-sorry."

"Oh, God, what happened? Are you okay?" If Monica hadn't been so horrified, she would have been struck at the complete sincerity and concern in Chandler's voice. He pulled her close to him and rubbed her back. She fell into his arms, letting herself relax - finally. 

"Please take me home," she sniffled. 

"Okay," he said quietly. She continued to hold him. "Mon, if we're gonna go home, you're gonna have to let go of me."

"Right," she said quickly, pulling away. He took her arm and they started walking down the street. She was still crying softly, and every time she thought of what _could_ have happened in the alley, her eyes filled with tears again.

Chandler walked her all the way to her apartment, took her keys out of her purse, and helped her inside. He sat her down on the couch and got her a glass of water and a box of tissues. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Monica's tears dried up. 

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Chandler asked finally. Monica took a deep breath and began to explain what had happened since she'd left her apartment a while before.

When she finished, Chandler took her hand and said, "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry that I - well, I guess that I wasn't there to protect you. Is there anything I can do?"

Monica shook her head. "Could you just... stay with me for a while? I don't know if I - if I can really be alone - "

"Of course," Chandler said. Without waiting for an invitation, Monica crawled over and snuggled into his arms. Chandler held her tightly and rocked her back and forth. Soon, despite the terror of her experience, she drifted off to sleep.

"Ahem," a voice said loudly, jerking her awake.

"Uh - uh - hi, Rachel," Chandler stammered. 

"Hello, Chandler. Hello, Monica," Rachel said evenly. "Having fun, I see."

"Chandler was just leaving," Monica said, pulling herself away from Chandler.

"Yes, yes I was," Chandler said, standing up. "Bye, Rachel." He paused. "Bye, Mon," he whispered.

"Bye," Monica said.

"Bye, Chandler," Rachel singsonged. She closed the door. "So... have a good time with Chandler?"

"We didn't do anything," she said gruffly.

"Sure ya didn't," Rachel said disbelievingly.

"We didn't," she insisted. "We didn't even kiss. I'm not... we're not together."

"Yet somehow you manage to fall asleep in his arms," Rachel said.

"Would you drop it, Rachel? Dammit, just leave me alone!" Monica yelled.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Mon. I didn't mean to - "

"Well you did," she muttered. "You have _no_ idea what happened today, so you have no reason to pass judgment." She stood up and stomped into her bedroom.

"Monica, what happened? Are you okay?" Rachel asked, following her into her room.

"No! I'm _not_ okay! I haven't been okay for a week - I'll _never_ be okay again! I'm _blind_! Does it look like I'm okay?"

"I'm sorry - "

"Don't be sorry!" Monica barked. "I'm sick of everyone being sorry! There's nothing to be sorry about!"

"Tell me what's wrong!" Rachel pleaded. "Did Chandler break up with you? Did he hurt you?"

"NO!" Monica yelled. "Chandler is the only one around here that's _not_ hurting me, but somehow I managed to screw everything up with him too." She covered her face with her hands and sat down on her bed. "I just - I need - I don't know what I need."

"I think you need to get out of the city," Rachel said softly, sitting down next to Monica and stroking her hair. "I've been talking to Ross, and we both think it's a good idea to get away for a while. My sister is loaning us her cabin in the Pocono's, and we're all gonna go up there this weekend."

"Okay," Monica said stiffly. "That sounds fine."

"Good. Now why don't you get some rest before we go to the doctor's later, okay?" Rachel said. She stood up and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Monica lay down in bed, just as frustrated as ever. _I'm not a child_, she thought furiously. _'Get some rest' - it's like I'm a little baby. _

"I _am_ a baby," she whispered. "And I hate it."

"So let's talk, Monica," Dr. Eckhart said gently. 

_Let's not,_ Monica thought bitterly. She knew that "let's talk" trick. It meant that the doctor was about to tell Monica something she wouldn't like.

"Okay," she said.

"Well, as the optometrist at the hospital explained, the vitreous fluid behind the eye has pulled both of her retinas, causing disconnection in both eyes. We thought that maybe time and therapy would heal this tear, but upon closer inspection, it has discovered that the damage is too severe to heal itself."

"What does that mean?" Monica said in a hollow voice.

"It means you may never see again," Dr. Eckhart said. 

Monica felt like the Earth was tilting, ready to end all gravity and send her falling over the side. _Never see again... never..._

"However," Dr. Eckhart said, "There is an experimental new surgery that has proven to work what we in the medical world call 'miracles' on this kind of situation. It is a dangerous procedure, and certain factors may prevent you from even being a candidate. You would need to see several doctors and eye surgeons, naturally, but I would like you to consider it."

"Oh," Monica said, her brain reeling with this new information. "And - and the surgery, it would let me see again?"

"Not for sure," the doctor said. "It _is_ experimental, and there are no guarantees. I will warn you, any surgery is dangerous, and this one, if performed incorrectly, can prove fatal. But it's your best option. I can give you a few weeks to think about it. Talk to your family, maybe you want a second - or third - opinion. Make another appointment with the receptionist as you leave."

Monica left the doctor's office in a daze. She'd only been blind for a week but already she couldn't imagine a life like this. But what was she willing to pay for sight?

A/N: Ack kinda over-dramatic. Sorry this took so long. My "vacation" turned out to be not so bad. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope to have the next part up soon. Unless, of course, me and Becca post our fic, which happens to be called "What's Love Got To Do With It?" *coughs* ;)

Yen


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Okay, who thinks that "out of the woodwork" is something people say? Because Becca doesn't. And I do. I want a vote. Then we'll just see, Bec, we'll just see. BTW, everyone, BECCA'S DRIVING! Watch out drivers, pedestrians, pilots and chickens, she's a maniac! Just kiddin, babe. Bec's a great driver. She even learned how to park the car today. Let's give her a big round of applause, eh? *hugs Bec*

Well, this fic is almost over and I think I speak for everyone when I say FINALLY! It's not very long but it seems to have taken forever to me. Hehe :) Prolly just one more chap after this. So thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading this again! 

Disclaimer: I know I don't own them. Sometimes I think I do, though. In my dreams, I own all of them. And Julie owns Clay. Something she can never say in real life. *giggles* Hi Julie! 

CHAPTER 8

Monica sighed as she followed Rachel up the stairs to their apartment. She had the length from the front door to the staircase, and the bottom of the stairs to their floor all memorized. 

Their uneventful weekend in the Pocono's had ended too quickly. She was back home - back to New York City, muggy, smoggy, loud, angry New York City. Back to her normal life of sitting around, waiting for something that would never come. Back to loneliness and anxiety and boredom. 

_33, 34, 35,_ Monica counted wearily, arriving at the top of the steps. She heard Rachel searching for her keys in her purse, the clink as she took them out, and then a gasp.

"What are these?" she asked excitedly.

"What?" Monica wondered.

"These roses! 12 long-stemmed roses, they're beautiful! Oh... hey..." Rachel trailed off. " 'To Monica, From Chandler.' Wow. I thought you dumped him!"

Rachel shoved the roses into Monica's arms. The sweet scent filled her nose as she struggled to comprehend what Rachel was telling her. _I thought I dumped him too... _she thought. She sniffed the roses again. As Rachel opened the door, she found a glass vase, filled it with water, placed the roses inside, and delicately placed the vase on the kitchen table. They smelled very nice, and probably 

_Beep._ Rachel pressed in answering machine button. 

"Hello, Monica, this is Doctor Eckhart. I'd like to speak to you about the surgery very soon, so please call my office when you get this message." Monica clenched her fists.

_Beep_.

"Monica, it's your mother. I was wondering if maybe you wanted me to take you shopping for some new clothes this week. I'll talk to you later."

"What, now I can't even _dress_ myself?" she muttered angrily.

_Beep._

"Hey - uh, hey, Monica. It's me. Ch-chandler, that is. Chandler Bing. Well, that's obvious, I guess, I mean how many Chandler's do you know? Uh - anyways... I haven't heard from you lately so I was just calling to say what's up. I hope that's okay, y'know, that we're, uh, talking, and stuff. Um, give me a call when you get this message. If you want to. Okay? Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Bye." 

Monica smiled without realizing what she was doing. Rachel laughed out loud. 

  
"Oh my God! That man is _in loooove_ with you!" she cried, giggling. 

"What makes you say that?"

"Uh, maybe the incredibly nervous message he left you, or perhaps the gorgeous bouquet of roses he sent to your house? Geeze, Mon, how many not-so-subtle hints do you _need_? Call the guy back, before he wets himself!"

"I'm not calling him," Monica murmured, sitting down on the couch.

"Why not?"

"Because, I - I don't - I'm not seeing him!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"You sound like a five year old."

"If you tell me why you won't call him, I'll stop bugging you."

"Fine," Monica said in exasperation. "I'm not calling her because I'm not getting into a relationship where I'll only get hurt, okay?" She stood up and slammed into her bedroom.

Rachel followed her and knocked on the door. When she didn't answer, she called, "Who said you're going to get hurt?"

"Hey, Mon."

Monica looked in the direction of the door, which had just opened and shut.

"Hi, Rach," she said, turning down the volume on the radio. "How was work?"

"Exhausting," Rachel replied. "The orders for the new pants got mixed up with the women's lingerie and I ended up with 25 boxes of thongs in my office."

"I'd take your day over mine," Monica said under her breath. _I'd do anything to get away from the boredom and loneliness of sitting at home all day with nothing at all to do. I'd give anything to be able to even _see_ those thongs you were complaining about._

"What'd you say?" Rachel asked.

"I said, sounds like a tough day."

"Yeah, it was. Hey," Rachel said, her voice suddenly taking on a different edge. "Do you want to, maybe, ah, go down to the coffeehouse?"

"That would be great," Monica said in relief. She was going stir crazy. 

"Great!" Rachel replied, a little too enthusiastically. She handed Monica her purse and they went downstairs. Monica heard the tinkle of the bell as Rachel opened the door and the light chatter of patrons in the shop. She felt her way to their favorite couch in the back and sat down.

"Gunther, can we get two coffees?" Monica called in the direction of the bar.

"Make it three," Rachel said quickly.

"Three? You expecting a date?" Monica joked.

"No... you are."

Monica's eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to ream Rachel out when someone else said, "Hi."

_Rachel is so dead._

"Hi, Chandler!" Rachel said cheerily. 

"Hi, Rachel. Hi, Mon."

"Hi, Chandler," Monica said, forcing a smile. "Hey, Rach, can I talk to you for a minute?" She stood up and yanked on Rachel's arm.

"Uh, sure," Rachel said. "Not that you gave me much choice." 

"What the _hell_ did you _do?_" Monica squealed once they were away from Chandler. 

"I invited Chandler here."

"Yeah, I got that, but _why?_ You _knew_ I didn't want to see him, and - "

"And I also knew why. Mon, you have been _miserable_ since your last date. You never explained why you stopped seeing him, but it was so obvious that you wanted to see him again. You're trying to protect yourself from getting hurt, and I understand that. But I hate seeing you like this, so last night, I called Chandler and asked him to meet us here."

"Rachel - "

"No, look. Chandler is a great guy. I know that; you know that. You want to date him - there's another thing we both know. Now why don't you just suck it up, talk to him, and get over yourself? You guys have something. Do you really want to go through life not knowing if it could be something more?"

Monica sighed. Everything Rachel had just said was completely true. She wanted to talk to Chandler more than anything - the fact that he was standing behind her, probably looking at her, sent goose bumps of pleasure up her back. She'd been fighting against herself for a week and now, she realized, she couldn't keep fighting. It wasn't fair - it wasn't fair that her own insecurities were hurting Chandler; it wasn't fair that she was holding back so hard when all she wanted to do was let go.

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him," Monica said. "But only for you." She smiled.

"Ooh, yay!" Rachel said excitedly. 

"And, Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Monica turned around and sat down on the couch. 

"Okay, then, I'm just gonna go sit - back there - yeah," Rachel stammered, excusing herself. Monica nodded and turned to the spot she could hear Chandler from. She smiled weakly.

"It's great to see you," Chandler said sincerely.

"It's great to see you too. Well, hear you, I guess," Monica said, laughing.

"Yeah. So, um, Rachel didn't exactly mention why you didn't, uh, set this up yourself. Y'know, why you didn't - "

"Yeah, that," Monica said. "Okay. I guess you kind of deserve for me to be honest about this."

"If it's that you just don't like me, I'd kind of rather you use a line. Y'know, it's not you it's me, or something equally generic," Chandler said in what Monica hoped was a joking voice.

"No, it isn't at all. Okay. I told you... all that because... because I was afraid. I thought that maybe, okay, you liked me now, but after some time, you might... not. You might not want to be with someone who's blind."

There was silence for a moment. "Monica, I'm so sorry you would ever think that. I know we talked about this before, and I know that I don't care that you're blind."

"I know you said that, but I - I have this irrational fear that you'll change your mind somewhere down the road, decide it was too much trouble. And I wanted it to be okay, I really did, but every time I was with you, I thought that it _wouldn't_ be okay, until - "

"Whoa, whoa, Monica, slow down," Chandler said. "You were afraid that - that you would be too much trouble?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Monica said, blushing.

"And that's why you didn't call?"

"Uh huh." 

"Wow. Monica - I don't know what to say."

"Pretty stupid, don't you th - "

He leaned in and kissed her.

"Think?" she finished with a gulp as he pulled away.

"Not really," he replied.

"So you're not mad at me?" Monica asked.

"Not at all."

"And we're okay?"

"We're perfect.... aren't we?"

Monica grinned, feeling truly happy for the first time in two weeks. "Yeah. We are."

A/N: Yep. Sap sap sap. :) *hugs all readers and pets Becca* HA!

*Yen*

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